


The Right Thing... Finally

by S_Horne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Attempt at Humor, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, McCall Pack, Mentioned Sheriff Stilinski, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “How do I know about your idea notebook, the one hidden in the back of your wardrobe with a massive heart on the front and the name 'Derek Stilinski' written all over it?”Laura's laugh was only heard by the dial tone as Derek hung up, thanking whatever Gods there were that she lived as far away as she did. His notebook didn’t have ‘Derek Stilinski’ all over it, just once so he knew which notebook it was. And there wasn’t a heart on it.Well. Not a massive one, anyway./Derek needs his idea notebook as proposing to Stiles is literally killing him.





	The Right Thing... Finally

**Author's Note:**

> I hate this. There's not enough dialogue, pretty sure the tenses are all wrong, I've read it too many times to see any more mistakes, and it's way too long. But I'm bored of it being in my in-progress folder, so enjoy!
> 
> Please point out mistakes and give me some constructive criticism!!!
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> \- S

It was a tricky drive to work anyway, the roads icy and vicious – add in the fact that Derek was waiting for an answer to what was possibly the most important question he would ever ask in his life, and it was downright dangerous.

God, but proposing had taken him so long. He and Stiles had been together for nearly six years now and he kept meaning to do it but just never did. They lived together, had been through hell together and always knew they were going to end up together; it was just… how to do it? After Scott’s proposal and then Jackson’s, even Erica’s elaborate event, the bar was set extremely high for him to make his good.

He’d been at work for an hour when his phone finally buzzed. He grabbed it eagerly, fingers fumbling as he rushed to unlock it.

**_From: Stiles_ **

_Hey babe! Thanks for defrosting my car this morning! Just couldn’t make myself get out of bed – too cold without you!!! Love you! Steak for dinner?_

Derek let his head fall forward and bang against his desk. He hadn’t defrosted his boyfriend’s car at all: he had gotten up even earlier than usual to carefully scrape the words ‘will you marry me?’ into the ice on the jeep’s front windscreen. Obviously, whilst Stiles was still in bed the removal of some of the frost had dislodged the rest and caused the whole window to melt. Without raising his head Derek grabbed his phone and tapped out a quick reply.

**_To: Stiles_ **

_No problem, lazy. Yup; I’ll stop and buy fresh ones when I get off. Have a good day x_

Dammit. That had been his good plan as well; now what was he going to do?

*

Derek was feeling good. It was going to happen this weekend, he was sure of it. It had been two weeks since his failed attempt with the car but he was ready to try again. He had stopped at a florist on the way home from work that day and ordered 2’035 carnations to arrive on Saturday morning whilst Stiles was out at his weekly coffee date with Lydia. Carnations were Stiles’ favorite flower; they’d been his mother’s favorite too. The cost of the flowers was damn well worth it, _Stiles_ was damn well worth it. Derek was the King of Romance, oh yes he was, capitals and all. He practically strutted all the way home, right up until six o’clock that evening.

The florist had told Derek that they needed to check their stocks to make sure that they could fill the order in time and was supposed to have rung Derek by six that evening to confirm or unfortunately decline the order. He checked his cell phone once again as he and Stiles sat and ate their meal, while Stiles continued his rambling about his day as he stood to get another drink.

 _‘No.’_ Derek mentally slapped himself as a sudden thought flew into his mind. He wouldn’t have been so **stupid**. He’d written down his _own cell number_ , of course he had… Hadn’t he? No, of course he had. Just as he’d convinced himself that he wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake and put down their home number for the confirmative call, the landline rang…

“I’ll get it,” Stiles called from the kitchen.

_‘Crap.’_

The younger man came back into the dining room a few moments later shaking his head in amusement. “Just a stupid sales call. Well, kind of a sales call.”

Derek’s heart sank deep down into his chest as he hummed a faux-disinterested response. “What did they want then?”

“Something about confirming an order of carnations? Two thousand and something – like that would be a real order anyway! Then they asked to check my credit card details, as if I was just gonna give that out over the phone. I told them that they probably didn’t want to try and scam the Sheriff’s son and hung up.” He walked over to Derek with a satisfied smirk and held out a hand for his bowl like he hadn’t just shattered all of his lover’s hopes and dreams. “More pasta?”

*

Just in case anyone was wondering about proposal ideas; you can spend an hour laying out rose petals on the floor to form a sentence, but they’ll blow around as soon as the front door opens – although this can lead to a very romantic evening of passion if you play it off as intentional and coincide it with your anniversary.

*

The reservations had been booked for two months now. Derek had chosen this date specifically; five years after they had first spent a weekend away together. He’d missed their first date anniversary with a failed attempt – surprise, surprise – so this would have to do.

Everything was going to go right tonight; everything was going to go according to his plan. The ring was in his pocket, the champagne was on ice and Stiles wasn’t acting like he suspected a thing. Their meals had been ordered and Derek had given his signal to the waiter to hold off on bringing them out for a while whilst Derek finally proposed. He’d got this.

Derek took a deep breath and moved to pull the ring out of his jacket pocket as he heard Stiles gasp. He smiled softly as he lifted his face to meet Stiles’ eyes, but the other man was looking off to one side. Following his gaze Derek saw the other couple – the couple who had come in at the same time as them, had ordered champagne at the same time as them, and who were now apparently getting engaged _instead_ of them. Derek watched in pure envy as the man dropped to one knee and his beautiful partner clasped a shaking hand over her mouth and nodded frantically.

Stiles turned back to Derek with a huge smile. “Oh my God! That was so adorable – we should go and congratulate them!”

Staring at his face, his bright eyes and his huge grin Derek felt crushed. He wanted that look forever locked on his, why couldn’t he just get it?

Murmuring his excuses Derek fled to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect himself before he broke down over his crushing disappointment and yet another failed plan. He splashed some water on his face and washed his hands, neither helping to make himself feel any better or make his head any clearer but wiping away any tears that may, _may,_ have fallen. Moving over to dry himself off Derek dropped his head onto the wall in front of him.

 _Ouch._ He needed to get this proposal done soon before he gave himself some serious brain damage.

*

A pregnancy announcement amongst a group of close friends kind of takes precedence over another chance – ‘ _let them have their moment_ ,’ Derek had tried to chastise himself. After all, it was the first pack baby and none of them could contain their excitement; rooms were already filling up with presents to spoil it rotten.

*

Derek met Erica at their usual diner for their weekly bitch, – “ _catch-up,_ Erica” – dropping heavily into his chair opposite the blonde woman.

“Not happening?” She asked sympathetically. A grunt was her only answer before Derek grabbed his coffee and drained it like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Maybe it’s not supposed to happen. I should have known,” Derek bemoaned once his mug was empty and his head had fallen backwards with a sigh.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Erica snapped.

Derek dropped his head forward again to fix Erica with a suspicious look. “‘Idiot?’ Why the restraint?”

“Figured what with a child coming into our pack soon I should probably clean up my language a little bit” she said, lifting one shoulder gracefully.

Derek eyed her warily. “I don’t like it,” he finally decided. “It’s creepy.”

Erica rolled her eyes at the man’s dramatics before reaching out a hand to squeeze Derek’s. “Sweetie, please stop second guessing yourself. It’s going to happen.”

At Erica’s unusual gentleness Derek felt a huge wave of love wash over him and a pang of sadness that his sisters lived halfway across the country. He was so lucky to have found such lovely friends –

“Anyway,” Erica continued, “if Stiles says no then come over for a night with Boyd and I; we’ll make you forget all about him.” She ended her lewd suggestion with a dirty wink.

– forget all that, his friends were the absolute worst.

“I’m getting more coffee,” he declared, pushing himself up from the table and striding over to the counter to escape the horrible images in his head. When he came back, Erica was waiting with another idea:

“Just do what I –”

“No.” He shut it down immediately, already knowing how that sentence was going to end.

“Seriously, I just –”

“No.”

“When you’re in bed –”

“No, Erica. Bad Erica. I said no and that means _no_. I have tried to forget that that scarring conversation ever happened and I am certainly not going to attempt to recreate it.”

“Fine, prude.” Erica rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “What about the idea of going back to the first apartment that you two lived in?”

“I went to see the landlady last week and she said the whole building is being completely renovated and won’t be fit to go into for at least three months.”

Erica smothered a badly concealed laugh and offered a somewhat-sympathetic smile Derek’s way. “Keep going like this and you’ll probably still be trying then.”

“You’re the most terrible person in the world and I don’t know why I even bothered coming to you.” Derek did not pout – just because Erica said something happened does not mean that it is true.

The blonde just offered a smirk over the rim of her mug. “Love you too, sugar.”

*

It was midday on a seemingly plain weekday when Derek next decided to take the plunge. He had texted his partner earlier that morning and arranged to meet up for a long lunch. As they entered the hole-in-the-wall café, Derek approached the counter and shooed Stiles away to grab their preferred table; the one in the corner by the windows with the comfy chairs.  The elder man quickly placed their usual order, speaking in hushed tones with the kid behind the counter as he roped him into his plan. This was _their_ café, not Derek and Erica’s usual spot, nor Stiles and Lydia’s hangout, but _theirs;_ Derek and Stiles’. They’d found the place years ago, way back when they had both been college students and had needed to plan their dates to fit in around study breaks and caffeine top-ups. It was a bit plainer than some of Derek’s other setting ideas but it would have to do.

Despite the two men eating in the café Derek had requested take away cups, the ones on which the employee wrote the customer’s name down the side.

Carefully Derek made his way over to the corner of the café where Stiles had made himself comfortable by shedding his jacket and sprawling across one of the low couches. Placing Stiles’ sugar-bomb concoction in front of him Derek pulled a mock grimace.

“Enjoy your heart attack,” he commented as he removed his own jacket and took a seat opposite his boyfriend.

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed obnoxiously as he reached for his cup and help it up to his face, inhaling the sweet smell from underneath the frankly alarming mountain of whipped cream. “Did they run out of mugs?” He asked as he poked out his tongue to lick at the cream.

“Something like that,” Derek replied lightly as he took a sip of his own drink and willed his thoughts away from Stiles’ tongue making those movements.

Stiles shrugged at the vague comment as he replaced his drink on the low table between them and launched into a tale about how he was glad to get a break from his coding project (read: shouting and swearing at his computer until it decided to do what he wanted it to).

Derek loved watching Stiles tell a story, his whole body thrown into his descriptions, but he was beginning to get impatient. He leant forward and lifted his drink to take a sip, carefully holding the drink in such a way as to not obscure the employee’s writing and then returning it to the table with slightly more force than was necessary, but so that the written name was facing Stiles fully. The other man didn’t register anything amiss, his tale fluidly transforming into the latest office gossip which was hot off the water cooler that morning. Stiles picked up his own cup once more and Derek held his breath, until the younger’s hand wrapped securely over the black text and it was put back onto the table with its writing facing away from him.

Derek sighed internally; he could point it out but that would take away all the fun from it and only serve to make Stiles feel guilty for being oblivious. _Next time,_ Derek thought.

When their plates had been taken away – seriously, Derek was kind of judging Stiles for having gone so long without fully observing his surroundings, i.e, his cup – and they were nearing the end of their drinks Derek rose to put his own coat on before moving to help Stiles into his, keeping his arms wrapped around the other when he was in.

“What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?” The younger asked, smiling at his boyfriend’s chivalry.

“Around 5ish I hope. You?”

“Probably the same, providing I get this project wrapped up.” Stiles leant in for a kiss, pulling back in Derek’s embrace slightly when the other’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

Derek shook himself and made his smile bigger; “fine,” he promised. “I’ll see you at home.”

Stiles didn’t look convinced but nodded and leant in for another kiss, his hands coming up to frame Derek’s face for a sickeningly sweet moment. As they broke apart Derek licked his lips to savor the taste of Stiles mixed with a lingering hint of cream and sugar before moving to finish his drink and remove their cups. He gestured for Stiles to lead the way out of the small shop, pointedly ignoring the sympathetic stare of the server burning holes in his back. He dropped the cups into the trash can by the door as Stiles stepped outside with a jaunty wave and an exaggerated kiss blown his way, trying to shake the ugly feeling building in his stomach at the sight of his once-lovely message lying atop discarded drinks and dirty wrappers. The two carefully crafted names now just looked mocking as Derek heaved a heavy sigh and headed back to work.

**‘Stiles Hale’?**

**Or ‘Derek Stilinski’?**

*

There were moments which reinforced just how dangerous a job it was to be a police Sheriff. It was a long couple of days camped out on uncomfortable hospital chairs and drinking barely-passable coffee but it was worth it to see the exchange between the Stilinski men when the older of the two had finally woken up; more than worth the cancelled reservations and another failed proposal idea. So much more.

*

“Help me.”

“Derek. If you are being held captive and need a ransom, say ‘monkey’. If you are not, then you’re going to wish you were for waking me up at 5 am on my day off.”

Oops. “Laura. I’m serious; I need help.”

“Hang on; let me set a recorder then say that again.”

“Laura!” Okay, so he might have dragged out the end of her name a bit longer than usual but he did _not_ whine. Puppies whine. And four year old children. Adult men do not whine, which is why he did _not whine._

“What’s wrong, little bro? Running out of ideas in your notebook?”

“None of my ideas are – wait. How do you know about my notebook?”

“Hm?” She asked casually. Too casually. “How do I know about your idea notebook, the one hidden in the back of your wardrobe with a massive heart on the front and the name _Derek Stilinski_ written all over it?”

Her laugh was only heard by the dial tone as Derek hung up, thanking whatever Gods there were that she lived as far away as she did. His notebook didn’t have ‘Derek Stilinski’ _all_ over it, just once so he knew which notebook it was. And there wasn’t a heart on it.

Well. Not a _massive_ one, anyway.

*

Derek had woken early that morning, long before Stiles (as per usual), but didn’t move from the bed to go for his usual run. Ignoring the tingling from his arm falling asleep Derek just looked down at Stiles pillowed on his chest, the younger man’s scent engulfing the room and his arms wrapped tightly around Derek’s waist. There were birds in the trees outside singing for the new day, the sun was up and shining through the curtains – not as thick as the blinds Derek had suggested, but Stiles had insisted that throwing open curtains in a morning was much more fun than just pulling down a string for blinds. Derek persisted with his campaign for blinds… so they bought curtains.

Anyway. The soft light from the morning sun highlighted Stiles’ features making him look even more beautiful than usual. Derek’s heart hurt a little bit at the sight. He wanted this. He wanted to wake up every morning to this, to come home every night to find Stiles burning something in the oven, wanted to collapse on the couch with this man every day, to ask how the other’s day was and to complain about his own. He wanted someone to take to his family parties; Derek loved watching Stiles playfully flirt with Peter, swap recipes with Talia, and run around in circles with the youngest children.

God, _kids._ Derek wanted a family of his own.

Hell, fucking tax benefits. Whatever excuse you want.

Derek was brought out of his early morning thoughts as the body leaning on his began to stir, nuzzling against the light spattering of hair across Derek’s chest. The elder lifted a hand to card his fingers through Stiles’ hair, gently teasing out knots and smoothing it as flat as it would go.

“Hmm,” came the contented sigh as Stiles fully awoke. “Morning, babe.”

Someone’s voice alone shouldn’t be enough to make a heart race like a speeding horse, especially not first thing in the morning, but every day it was the same.

“Hi,” Derek replied just as softly, scared to chase away the moment if he spoke too loudly.

“Have you let Georgie out?” Stiles shifted even closer to the elder and turned his head, running his nose along the sensitive skin at Derek’s nipples.

“No, I haven’t moved yet,” Derek replied with a shiver. “Woke up with an octopus wrapped around me so Buster will just have to wait for a moment more.”

“We better get up and get him. _George_ will pee on the floor if we leave him alone for too long.” Stiles’ comment was not supported by his eyes as they slipped closed once more.

“ _Buster_ knows better than to pee on the floor after last time.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget? The terrifying Alpha eyes for three seconds, followed by a treat because you felt guilty for making him cower and then you still let him sleep in the bed.”

Derek gave a playful growl before flipping the younger man onto his back, hovering over him as his hands dug into the other’s sides. Stiles’ laughter echoed around the room and his limbs flailed in all directions as the elder man tickled him into submission.

“I give!” He cried, tears forming in the corners off his eyes and he fought for breath. “Uncle! Uncle!”

Derek pulled his hands away with a mock grimace. “I really wish you’d stop bringing Peter into our bed.”

Stiles reclaimed his position on top of Derek. “Oh sweetheart, I’ll show you exactly who I’m thinking about.”

Just as he bent down to connect their lips there was a series of insistent barks from the kitchen followed by a few scratches and the pattering of little paws on a hardwood floor.

“I’ll get George,” Stiles said with a sigh as he climbed off Derek.

Rolling on to his side and propping himself up on one elbow to watch the younger man burrow around for some boxers, Derek spoke with a roll of his eyes. “I do wish you’d stop calling him that, you’re going to give him multiple personality disorder.”

“That’s his name!”

“‘George’ is not a suitable name for a puppy. It’s the name of, I don’t know, an accountant – or the Prince of England. Not a ball of fluff.”

“Oh hush. We all know about the bowl you ordered, so give it up.” Stiles threw a smirk over his shoulder as he left the room, pride practically rolling off him as he knew he’d finally won that particular argument.

 _‘Dammit.’_ Derek had planned to pretend for at least another couple of days that he hated the name that Stiles had chosen, just until the supposed-to-be-a-surprise personalised dog bowl had arrived. Listening to the younger man descend the stairs and let their dog out with crooning promises about how his ‘daddies’ – ‘ _oh good God, **Stiles’**_ – were going to finally decide on a name really soon before making a start on breakfast, Derek couldn’t help but grin. There was a loud crash and a curse which had Derek shooting upright and ready to jump out of bed until a hastily called reassurance was heard.

“I’m good!” There was a pause before… “Finally got rid of that hideous vase from your mother though!”

Sinking back down onto the frankly alarming amount of pillows on their bed, Derek wished that he could say he was re-evaluating every one of his life’s decisions; except that he honestly wasn’t. He wanted this forever.

And fuck it; he was getting it.

*

“Marry me.”

Stiles jumped almost a foot in the air at the sudden entrance of Derek into the kitchen. He spun around from where he had been putting away their clean dishes and turned a questioning eye on his partner.

“Excuse me?”

Derek stepped further into the room and placed a small black box onto the table with more force than Stiles thought strictly necessary. “Marry me” he repeated, lifting a finger to point at his offering.

“Pretty sure you’re supposed to at least phrase it like a question” Stiles said, still in a state of shock. “A little less like you have a gun pointed at my head, maybe.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work. So, now I’m doing it like this. Short and to the point.” His voice trailed off a bit as Stiles shook his head and held up a hand. “Unless you don’t want to…”

“Hang on, you’ve tried?”

“Several times,” Derek admitted.

“When?” Stiles asked loudly, his shock projecting his voice.

“The car, that Italian restaurant, even in our coffee shop!” Listing all of his failed attempts in front of Stiles was even more embarrassing than sitting through Laura’s phone calls after every unsuccessful try. They were just laughter with an extra minute added after each failure.

Stiles was silent, taking a moment to absorb the revelation.

“Every time it failed and every time I felt like it was a sign, but I didn’t want a sign that I shouldn’t marry you. I _want_ to marry you. So…” Derek shrugged and pointed at the box again. “Will you?”

Stiles smiled, “why not?”

“Stiles,” Derek growled. “I did not go through six months of hell for you to say “why not”.”

Stiles laughed softly as he crossed the room and threw his arms around the elder’s neck. “Of course I will.”

*

Later that night the newly-engaged couple lay curled up on the sofa, their arms tight around each other and Stiles’ ring glinting in the soft light before Stiles broached the subject again.

“Okay. So, there was the car, the restaurant, and the coffee shop?”

Derek sighed with resignation; he was going to be reliving these failures for the rest of his life. “Yes, and there was also a trip to the beach before John went into hospital,” – he dropped a kiss to Stiles’ head as he felt the other man tense in his arms – “rose petals in our room and I had an idea about going back to our first apartment together.”

Stiles hummed as he mulled over Derek’s confession.

“Hang on,” Stiles spoke suddenly into the silence. “That call about all those flowers – it wasn’t a sales call, was it?”

Derek didn’t move, but remained completely still as Stiles twisted in his arms to face him.

“Derek.”

Derek met Stiles’ gaze with an absentminded hum, as if he hadn’t been listening to the preceding conversation.

“Hey, don’t pretend you didn’t hear me,” Stiles admonished with a sharp jab into the elder man’s side, “those flowers were for a proposal weren’t they! Carnations, my mother’s… My mother’s favorite” he concluded with a gasp. “That trip to the beach, Dad was going to meet us there. When Scott and Allison announced their pregnancy, it was you that had told the whole pack to meet up! And Laura was talking about coming to stay for a week – because you wanted everyone to be there! So that must be why you chose carnations; you were including my mother in your proposal.”

Derek didn’t reply but the blush rising on his cheeks said enough for the younger man. Stiles melted into a thousand pieces.

“When in the hell did you get so sappy?” He questioned softly.

Although his eyes stayed locked on his lap Derek replied in a soft tone after a quick clearing of his throat. “Since I’ve been happy.”

Nothing on earth, above or below it for that matter, could have stopped Stiles from quickly swinging a leg over the elder man’s, seating himself firmly upon Derek’s lap and leaning down to connect their lips passionately. Stiles’ hands moved up to frame Derek’s face as his fingers lightly scratched at the dark stubble staining his cheeks. Their tongues battled as the kiss grew more heated, hands roaming through hair and under shirts until the need for air broke the two men apart with heavy breathing.

“I love you,” Stiles panted as Derek moved onto the pale expanse of his neck, peppering kisses in-between light nips.

“Wait, wait.” Derek growled as Stiles pushed him away with a hand on his chest, trying to reconnect their lips before Stiles began asking more questions.

Stiles insistently pushed Derek back as he struggled to catch his breath to pose his question.

“The carnations – the woman on the phone said some ridiculous number; how many did you order?”

Derek mumbled something unintelligible into Stiles’ shirt, prompting the younger to ask with a grin, “sorry, didn’t quite catch that, babe. How many?”

Derek sighed before answering in a resigned tone. “Two thousand, eight hundred, and thirty five.”

“Two thousand, eight hundred, and thirty five?” Stiles cried. “Derek, that’s insane! Why was there that many?”

“What?” Derek replied defensively. “It’s not like I couldn’t afford it.”

“That is so not the point.” Stiles argued his opinion with a roll of his eyes and his hands thrown up in the air. “I’ve never even seen that many flowers in one place but I can imagine they would take up a lot of room. Why were there that many? What would we have done with two thousand and something flowers?”

“Give them to the girls? Take them to the hospital, or the cemetery. Maybe we could have had some pressed – saved them to remember the moment…” He trailed off, his cheeks flaming under his dark stubble as he noticed Stiles staring at him. “It was meant to be romantic” Derek continued, faltering a little bit. He wasn’t pouting.

He _wasn’t._

“It would have been romantic,” Stiles reassured, finding his voice after a second of awe. He shook himself before pushing again “but why were there that many?”

“One for every day that I’ve loved you.” Derek’s cheeks flamed but this time he kept his gaze on Stiles’.

Stiles stared straight at Derek with a blank face.

“What?”

 “…I am marrying the world’s biggest sap,” Stiles finally said.

Derek had been ready to jump on the defence, but as Stiles’ words sunk in he couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up and his chin lifting.

Stiles noticed immediately and the words blurted from his mouth without thought. “Oh my god, did you just preen? Because I said I was marrying you?”

Derek blushed even more, his cheeks absolutely flaming as he couldn’t think of any way to deny what he had done.

“Nope,” Stiles said faintly, staring at Derek with a star-struck expression fixed on his face. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” Derek asked, tensing slightly under the younger.

“I can’t do it,” Stiles repeated, his face still frozen in shock. “You need to stop. Being so romantic, and sweet… I can’t marry you, sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek’s arms were tight around the other’s waist. If he’d gone through all of that trouble for this, are you kidding –

“Not until I’ve spoken to Deaton and made sure to exorcise whatever demon or fae is inside of you. Or a cupid. Oh my god, it’s a cupid. Wait, – are cupids real?!”

Even as relief coursed through him, Derek rolled his eyes and jolted his hips up. Stiles squawked as his rant about cupids was cut off with him being thrown off balance and landing in an ungraceful heap of limbs next to his partner.

“Well maybe I don’t want to marry you anymore,” Derek snarked, “after all; your first thought about me being romantic was that I had been possessed by a supernatural creature.”

Stiles let out a bright burst of laughter at his petulant fiancé as he righted himself on the couch. He pulled Derek’s arm tight around his shoulders and settled in against his broad chest. Linking their fingers together, Stiles brought Derek’s hand up to his lips and pressed gentle kisses to each of his knuckles. The two men sat in a contented silence as they watched George bundle into the room. He looked around for a second before bounding over to join his daddies – _‘nope, there was no way that is catching on’,_ Derek thought – on the couch, doing a little jump that ended with his butt hanging off of the chair.

Stiles eventually broke their silence as his gaze followed George finally crawling onto Derek’s lap.  “I’m glad it happened how it happened.”

“Hm?” Derek questioned, cleaning the sleepy haze from his mind to hear his fiancé.

“I’m glad that you proposed in the way that you did,” Stiles reiterated.

“What?” Derek responded incredulously. “It was awful! When we can be bothered to move you’re going to give me the ring back and let me have a ‘do over’. We’ll go out to a fancy restaurant, or down to the park –”

“No!” Stiles interrupted, releasing Derek’s hand to cradle his ring finger protectively against his chest. “No, don’t do it again. I loved it! It was us.” His voice softened as he took Derek’s hand in his once more, his other reaching out to ruffle behind his pup’s ears. “Flowers, over the top-ness, voyeuristic restaurant proposals… all that crap is fine for our friends, I mean don’t get me wrong – I’d have said ‘yes’ however you’d have done it – but this? This was all **us.** It was an absolute monumental fuckup which really should not have worked out well, and yet somehow it did. A mess but perfect at the same time; I loved it.”

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but found that he couldn’t speak around the suspicious lump suddenly in his throat. Stiles talked all the time; he was loud, sarcastic, witty, but rarely serious. He shied away from serious emotion – and it says something when Derek has to be the emotional one in the relationship. When Stiles did manage to say something serious though, he always said exactly the right thing.

And this? Lying on the sofa, Stiles stretched out next to Derek and wrapped securely in his arms with their tiny ball of fluff warming their feet and a ring full of promise finally in its place on Stiles’ finger?

This was the right thing.


End file.
